


Secret Ceremony

by iwarawr



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Psychological Drama, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, all characters are morally wrong, angst/no comfort, cw // description of obsessive behaviour, itachi and sasuke are related but it's complicated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwarawr/pseuds/iwarawr
Summary: 'Mister Sasuke didn't know what to do.  He felt vaguely threatened.  It seemed like this man had begun to envelop him, to compromise him.  From the moment the two looked at each other, the young man had ceased to be a stranger.  He was taking possession of him. Giving him responsibility, burden. Even the coincidence of being dressed in funeral clothing created a mysterious bond between them, it separated the two from the others but at the same time placed them together.'This work is completly based of the book 'Ceremonia Secreta' by the argentine author Marco Denevi.
Relationships: Past Uchiha Itachi/Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

It had not yet begun to dawn when Mister Sasuke Uchiha left his house.

Not a soul could be seen on the street.

Mister Sasuke walked close to the walls, with lowered eyes, his body stiff, walk energetic and almost martial, as it was convenient for any person to walk alone at those hours, even though he is thirty-eight years old.Because... you never know.

(But who would have dared to approach him? Dressed all in black, from head to toe. His black hair long to his shoulders and one of his eyes covered by his bangs, the tall and gaunt figure that Mister Sasuke took on, had, in the shadows, a vague religious air. He could have been mistaken for a priest, who, under the cover of night, fled away from a blood red slaughter).

He marched so fast that, his knees, sharp and pointy, tapped on the end of his coat while it danced around his legs like churning water. Water that he splashed, giving the impression of wanting to save the bouquet of leaves and flowers that he held reverently with both hands at chest level.

Upon reaching the house of that paralyzed child who had once smiled at him, he placed a passion flower on the threshold of the door, bowed his forehead, and prayed aloud: **_“Oh, Lord, whose will runs the moments of our life, accept the prayers and offerings of your servants, who implore you for the health of the sick, and heal them from all evil”_**.

He kept walking.

On the balcony of Hinata, Neji and Hababi Hyuga’s house, he put a periwinkle branch tied with a pink ribbon, and prayed: **_“May the God of Konoha be the tabernacle of your virginity, oh little girl, may he save you from the temptations of the serpent”._**

He kept walking.

He threw three leaves of cineraria in the garden of a chalet in which, several days before, he had seen a funeral taking place.In an intrepid Latin he muttered: **_"Requam ae ternam dona eis, Domine, and lux perpetua luceat eis"_** _(grant them eternal rest, Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them"_

He kept walking.

Now it would be Karui Akimichi's turn. He had been leaving an ostentatious branch of nettle at the little whore’s house every day, for months.Mister Sasuke had decided that the nettle branch would be like an obituary, where, without using bad words the girl would be invited to move to another neighborhood.But Karui Akimichi seemed to be illiterate to the language of nettles and did not move at all.So Mister Sasuke found himself under the painful obligation to insist on his stinging eviction requests.

But when that morning he stopped in front of Karui's house, he opened his wallet and, holding his breath (in order to become immune to the poison of the nettle), he extracted his message;when he was about to place it on the threshold, lightning struck him. That lightning bolt was Karui.

Karui, looking like she hadn't slept, like she had been stalking the porch all night, pale and disheveled, stood in front of Mister Sasuke and began to insult him loudly and conscientiously.He called him with names bristling with f’s, she assigned him unforeseen relatives, andattributed him professions to which are usually described as sad.

And finally, she apostrophized him as the worst sinners will be apostrated on the Day of Judgment.

Where did that woman get so many words from?Mister Uchiha had the terrifying sensation of a volcanic lava rushing towards him, in which, if he did not escape in time, he would be trapped forever like an inhabitant of Pompeii.To get out of the river of fire and not die, he turned around, and as decently as he could, walked away.

(I mean, he ran like crazy, for blocks and blocks, until he couldn't take it anymore. When his legs started to bent like wires he stopped. He was panting. His own pulse deafening to his ears. Under the clothes his whole body distilled, like a frozen mucilage. His feet were beating like hearts. He squinted and felt like vomiting. It took Mister Sasuke a century to calm down).

To get on the train, he took a very long detour.Right there, he vowed never to pass in front of Karui's house again.Never. And as it reaffirming that solemn oath, he threw to the ground the rest of the flowers that he still held in one hand, which seemed suddenly withered, burned under the brimstone of the insults.

Suddenly, as if it had come out of some house, the first train appeared.

Mister Sasuke took it, he sat by a window, and an endless street, made up of the many pieces of pavement, began to roll under his eyes.He knew the itinerary by heart.But he always found a way to entertain himself. 

He counted, for example, the trees on the sidewalk (skipping one or another that he found unpleasant), he looked for the letters of his name on the wall signs, he sometimes tried to guess how many people mourning he would see before reaching the sixth intersection.

When you have imagination, you don't get bored.

(The truth is that these games had ended up becoming obsessions.

Mister Sasuke couldn't sit in the bathroom without counting the wall tiles.In his kitchen he was always fuming furious with the eight panes of the window.As he walked down the street he grouped the mosaics into crosses, into stars, into large polygonal figures.Sometimes the drawing was so complicated that he had to stop walking to finish it.And then you’d see him, standing in the middle of a river of pedestrians, giving glances to the ground that woke everyone's curiosity).

But that morning Mister Sasuke was not in a mood for games.As soon as he got into the wooden seat of the train, a zephyr of thoughts kidnapped and carried him away, transporting Mister Sasuke to Karui Akimichi's house.

My Lord, what language that basilisk had used! Mister Sasuke did not remember specifically any words;everything melted into the same inextricable gibberish.But it was all seasoned with the most heinous insults, he did not doubt it. 

Look, a little whore allowed herself to vex Mister Sasuke Uchiha loudly in the street.And had he spoiled it? No, it was necessary to put things back in their place.

He began to mentally insult Karui.

Why did it matter?It was all because of a single word.A terrible word. Heartless.And he repeated it like a magic formula, -like a spell, like someone who redoubles blows on a rebellious nail. He repeated it until ecstasy, until vertigo came and angelic intoxication started being noticeable.He could imagine that the word, chanted in its way, flew over the streets and buildings, and reached Karui herself. He imagined that it fell on the wretched woman like a rain of burning pins, knocked her down and threw her to the ground. There, she was drowning in the pride, youth, beauty, that evil vigor had taken off Mister Sasuke, and finally, left her like a cloud of locusts to a dry tree.

(And while she conceived these seductive destinies for Karui, Mister Sasuke trembled in his seat and made small and jerky gestures, so noticeable that the person sitting next to him might think that the young man in the intimidating coat was not in his right mind.

Suddenly Mister Sasuke remembered something.Yes!, a small episode within the great scene with Karui.At the time, he had looked at it without actually _seeing_ it, and immediate terror buried him under its waves.But now that that cloudy water had evaporated, the little episode reappeared.Note that Karui, while covering Mister Sasuke with curse words, had inadvertently put a bare foot close to the nettle, and the nettle had bitten her.As if saying: ** _‘_** _squawk all you want, I'll get to you anyways, because that's the way my corporal ordered it.I obey him, not you’_. Karui had jumped, she had pulled her foot away from the nettle, exacerbated more by humiliation than by pain, the little whore had started howling like a madwoman. 

Remembering it, Mister Sasuke suffered a laughter attack.He was suffocating. He must have raised the handkerchief to his lips.But he couldn't keep his shoulders from shaking, and a burst of laughter from escaping loudly through his nose.

Frightened by that noise, Mister Uchiha dropped his back onto the seat.He shifted in his place, coughed, made up a face of outraged dignity and turned to the person next to him.

It was like turning around and hitting the point of a knife. Because the person next to him was young man in his middle twenties (he confusedly distinguished the man, blonde, big blue eyes, dressed in clothing who usually belong to a mourning husband), this young man sunk in his seat, his hands in his coat pockets, motionless — like his soul was in suspense — had his face resolutely turned towards Mister Sasuke and was looking directly at his eyes. 

But he looked at him not as a person momentarily surprised because they heard someone laugh alone, but as someone who waits for that laugh to end knowing that a tremendous thing will happen after, and now he was expecting that tremendous thing to happen.

Mister Sasuke looked away and stared out the window.He waited a while and then looked ahead.He didn't need more to verify that the man had not changed his position.

He looked out the window again, and looked forward again.The young blonde didn’t looked like he had intention in moving any time soon.

He's a poor madman, he thought.

But thinking that the guy is a poor madman its not a gain if the poor madman is sitting next to us and examines us hypnotically.Mister Sasuke didn't know what to do.He felt vaguely threatened.It seemed like this man had begun to envelop him, to compromise him.From the moment the two looked at each other, the young man had ceased to be a stranger.He was taking possession of him. Giving him responsibility, burden. Danger transferred to him.Even the coincidence of being dressed in funeral clothing created a mysterious bond between them, it separated the two from the others but at the same time placed them together.

Mister Sasuke's eyes went from the window to the front door of the train and vice versa, and thanks to this coming and going he was still watching the mab.And he still kept looking at him. Mister Sasuke cleared his throat vigorously, crooned softly, and began to read the fascinating inscriptions on the ticket, in any case showed that he was not intimidated.

And the man kept looking at him. He kept looking at him.

Kept looking at him.

‘If you keep looking at me like that (Mister Sasuke mentally complained) I'm going to ask you if I have monkeys on my face.But don't you realize the role you play?Or will I have to be the one to attract attention?Will I have something in my ear?Has my face turned purple?Am I about to die?’

Abandoning any kind of vertigo, he turned to the young blonde.Why did he do it?He looked away quickly. 

Well, did that guy kept looking at him?, yes!, but the pupils that previously seemed to expect something tremendous had now been shattered.The boy was crying.He was crying silently, without a gesture, without a movement.He was crying with his hands inside his pockets.Hunched in his seat.He was crying and looking at Mister Sasuke.He looked at Mister Sasuke, and he bitterly reproaches the nameless man for not keeping their pact.

The pact? What pact?Mister Sasuke was loosing his mind. 

Suddenly, he stood up, passed in front and over the young man, he was murmuring something, but Mister Sasuke Uchiha should not listen to him,because if Mister Sasuke listened to him, he would be lost, lost forever. 

He ran down the hall, collided with a passenger, yelled at the driver to stop the train, and, when the train reached the corner, he jumped from the peaceful vehicle like it was a burning building, stumbled, nearly fell, and drove away down the street. 

He run with everything his legs allowed. He didn’t looked behind even once.

Mister Sasuke heard the bells of the Holy Sacrament.The church welcomed him as all churches did: as a secret asylum that kept him safe from the infinite evils of this world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'He had fallen into a net. Now they would lead him wherever his hunter wanted.'

Mister Sasuke entered to Holy Sacrament, heard prayers, from the atrium he peered around, did not see the mourning man from the train (the mourning boy was inside the temple, standing between two confessionals, in a dark corner), descended to the street and took the street towards the North.

Crossing the park brought him two troubles.The first: that couple.How is it possible to have the desire to hug and kiss in a public park at eight in the morning?He passed that sad scene pretending he didn't see it.But he heard.He heard the woman's laugh.Mister Sasuke pursed her lips. ** _Heartless. Heartless. HeartlessHeartlessheartlessheartless._**

The second problem: that group of boys.There is nothing, in the entire universe of galaxies and nebulae, as fearsome as a horde of boys.It is not known how they are formed, where they come from, but there they are more united than a tree to its roots, entangled in an intricacy of curse words and obscene gestures, adhering to each other until they form a single mass.Look at them.They greet each other loudly.They hardly speak.They understand each other with giggles, with winks, with coded formulas.They adopt a stealthy and devious air as if they were plotting who knows what.And, if a woman passes by, they all look at her, now grimly, arrogantly, as if they knew some secret and threatened to divulge it.But they are never more ferocious than when they are installed in their corners.You have to be a woman and go through that minefield to know what the libido and sex harassment is.Believe Mister Sasuke.

His lynx eyes discovered danger from afar.The band of boys came to meet him.Mister Sasuke turned the way he had come.Hee had to go past the couple again (and the woman, again, laughed provocatively. I'd like to see you dead, Mister Sasuke thought), had to go down step by step, walking several more blocks.But everything is preferable.

At nine he arrived at the cemetery.He visited the three identical monuments, made of gray marble. He read the headstones as he always did, like a greeting, the inscriptions were already beginning to fade. 

_Fugaku Uchiha.† March 23, 1926._

_Mikoto Uchiha.† March 23, 1926._

_Itachi Uchiha.† March 23, 1926._

"I couldn’t get you flowers today,” he explained out loud, "because the ones I wanted to bring were stained by that slut, you know, that Karui.”

He wandered for a while among the vaults and pantheons.

As he rounded a corner, abruptly, he saw him. It was there, a few meters away, like blocking his way.Mister Sasuke stopped and the two looked at each other.

Now he could observe him better.She was not much shorter than Mister Sasuke, skinny, with intimidating profound blue eyes.The head, in proportion with that body, seemed even more delicate because of the profuse blond hair that framed it.The large face, with somewhat soft features, radiated innocence and goodness, like that a peasant man, and this resemblance was accentuated by a kind of flushing, a curious puffiness that congested those features.As if the young man was holding an enormous weight on his head.Otherwise, he wore quality clothes.On the other hand, no jewelry was visible.No gloves, no purse, no hat.And that was it.

‘Wow,’ Mister Sasuke thought with relief, ‘he's a poor harmless boy. He gives me the impression of a stranger who has been lost and wants to ask me how to get back home.Frankly, I don't know why I have done so many stories on the train.’

It was everything but at the same time it wasn't.Well, he had looked at us for a long time and cried.You don't cry without a reason.Then he followed us through half the city, until we met again.Then he looks at us again. He no longer sheds absurd tears.Now he remains immobile, in an attitude of offering and resignation, of supplication.And giving us the initiative, he waits painfully for what we will do. His mere presence there is a question that needs to be answered, yes or no.You have to decide.And Mister Sasuke was not made of strong iron.He was made of delicate wax and butter.So Mister Sasuke, without further thought, made up his mind.

I mean, he smiled.And as if that smile had suddenly opened a cleft in his spirit, Mister Sasuke rushed into the dark void and, unable to control his movements, made several gestures, like greetings.It was enough.A dizzying mechanism kicked in.As if it was thrown by a brutal hand, the man pounced on Sasuke and hugged him, he clung into his neck, rested his head there, his whole body vibrating.And in the meantime, underneath the blond bush there was a little cry, or a convulsive laugh, the rattle of a maddened animal, an inarticulate chant that gradually became a word, a single word, repeated in the tone of the most delirious rapture:

“Home, home, home, home home…”

Mister Sasuke blinked in amazement.

Until the chant died away, the huge clump of blond hair stirred and separated himself from Mister Sask.’s chest;underneath, timidly, like a suspicious little beet, the boy’s face appeared.With a kind of panic Mister Sasuke looked at him. He did not see the silken furrows of tears, nor the forehead that glistened with sweat, nor the ghostly smile, already painful, already exhilarated that appeared and disappeared incessantly between lips. Mister Sasuke saw only the eyes. Those same eyes, Itachi had looked at him that March 23, 1926. An immense pity and infinite sweetness possessed him.He knew that she could no longer escape.He had fallen into a net.Now they would lead her wherever her hunter wanted.

The young man took Mister Sasuke’s arm and they both left the cemetery.

They crossed the city again.They walked together and embraced, like two close friends, or like a young loving couple.They did not exchange a word.Mister Sasuke was doing his energetic walk while staring at the ground.He was puzzled, excited, murky happy.The adventure with the young mourning man produced a kind of intoxication.What was going to happen to him?But he didn't want to guess.Whatever happened, he was ready.Well, often, sick with loneliness, he had dreamed that in this crowded world there was someone who knew his existence, who needed him, who was waiting and looking for him, and that someday he would find them and take them with him.And now that crazy fantasy was no longer one.But he did not want to interfere with the very delicate mechanics of magic with requesting for explanations.You have to submit and let yourself be governed.Mister Sasuke did not dare to give the young man a sidelong glance for fear that the spell would break.

But the spell was not broken, the dream continued, the energetic blonde boy continued to trot by his side.And he advanced. Where?I didn't know, I didn't want to know.

They reached Anglomery Street.They arrived at that stretch of Anglomery that goes from the north Diagonal to Chief Avenue where you can only see stores and women snooping through shop windows.

There it was, in the shadow of the great modern buildings, an old house with nothing special. It has two barred windows on the ground floor, it has a double-leaf door: with two funereal bronze knockers;It has a long bay balcony on the upper floor and nothing else except for a huge crack that crosses it like a fateful scar or like the drawingof lightning in a candid watercolor.

So the house is there as if it was not there;it is there by omission, as if through a fissure between the two flanking buildings an excrescence had risen to the surface, a rubble of the colonial city, which now lies buried under the tall towers.It would be enough for the shop on the right and the shop on the left to get a little closer to each other, and they would remove that grain like a pincer.

Mister Sasuke, who was marching rapidly through the street, gasped when the young man stopped in front of that relic.He saw him extract a key from his coat pocket, laboriously open the door, and then step aside for him to enter.But Mister Sasuke couldn’t decide.

"Who's there? Is there someone in there?" He asked, while peering inside the house, wrapped in vague darkness.

The young man repeatedly shook his head.

"Nobody, nobody," he said, while his face went suddenly grim.

Then, with a loudly beating heart, Mister Sasuke Uchiha entered the house at 78 Anglomery Street.

He was soon hit with the smell of humidity, of confinement, of medicines, of rottenness, and death, an odor that was the product of all the bad smells in this world. It was the first thing that came to him, ruining the emotion he was experiencing. He would have preferred to go back.He would have liked, at least, to bring a handkerchief to his nose.But the young man had already taken him by the hand and was dragging him toward the bottom of that fetid smell.

They passed through several darkened rooms crammed with furniture.They walked trough a narrow hallway, lit by storm light filtering through a remote window.They climbed a black wooden ladder, which creaked and creaked under their feet.They walked thought another — even smaller — hall.They went down a corridor. They stopped in front of a door.The boy opened that door and Mister Sasuke found himself inside a luxurious bedroom.

In the first moments he saw nothing but the formidable double bed, covered with a white satin bedspread;the vast wardrobe;a variegation of tables and armchairs, and there, in the background, the large French window.Suddenly it all seemed so absurd that he did not know how to continue.

He took a few steps across the room.He felt the young man's eyes behind him.He could hear him gasping for air. He had dragged him, he had been dragged, onto a stage, and now they expected him to play a role.Which role?He ignored it.

Looking to fill this embarrassing void, Mister Sasuke did a most comical thing.He began to examine the photographs on the bedroom walls with earnest interest.He looked at himself with a ruddy man, with faded ladies who wore hats very similar to others he own, again with the same man from before. 

Suddenly she had a start.A man who resembled him remarkably but at the same time vaguely resembled him, who had an admirable or— I was not sure— fuzzy resemblance to him, gazed at him from one of the photographs.Standing beside him, a boy identical to the young mourning man rested his head on the shoulder of Sasuke Uchiha's lookalike, and both, through the lens of the camera, stared at him, with cautious and persistent eyes.

Mister Sasuke was so astonished that he could not help turning mechanically in the direction of the young man.He was obviously expecting that gesture.And he waited for him as a fiery invitation free rein.

He hung onto his arm, rested his head on his shoulder, faithfully copied the attitude of the boy in the photograph and once again repeated that strange little word:

“Home, home, home…”

For a few minutes the four men studied each other.

"Evidently," reflected Mister Sasuke, looking at his double, “he deviously possesses some of my features.Too bad that parted long hairstyle.It makes it so old-fashioned! "

(You understand? A man who seemed to have escaped from a 1920s photo album was looking at the photograph of a man who seemed to have escaped from the year 1920 and found it outdated).

Instead, Mister Sasuke kept thinking.

"So here is the key," Mister Sasuke deduced."It has mistaken me for that man, who is surely his husband and who has surely just died.Okay, so everything is cleared up."

The vulgarity of that explanation disappointed him.He had expected something else, less easy, more convoluted.And now, what was left to do? “My darling, I am not what you imagine.So please let me go.” and go.

He freed himself from the young man's arm, took a few oblique steps, a few steps in several directions at the same time, like someone looking for a way out, and, like someone who can't find it, he stopped and rested a hand on a piece of furniture.Unexpectedly he saw himself reflected in the mirror.A mixture of fear and rage washed over him.And turning to the young man, he burst into a torrent of words that he could not contain:

“And? What are you waiting for?What do you want of me?You do not do anything?You do not say anything?Have you become mute?”

He bit his lip.Why had he spoken like that?And where did he get that harsh, harsh voice, as if he was angry?If he wasn't angry.No, on the contrary.His outburst was, at best, a plea for help.When you can't find the exit, you yell and punch everything.On the other hand, he had looked so ridiculous in that mirror, so lanky and grotesque among the luxuries of the bedroom!And now?Surely now the boy will burst into tears.

And no. Paradoxically, the boy not only did not burst into tears, but he gave a high-pitched giggle and sputtered:

“Want to have breakfast?“

He made a gesture as he was asking Mister Sasuke to wait, and left hastily.

Standing in the center of that large room, Mister Sasuke blinked.

Had he heard correctly?Had the boy said: ‘want to have breakfast?’ He would stay a while longer, to see what those words and the protective gesture meant.Yes, why not?After all, he wasn't doing any bad deeds.If someone, let's say a relative, a friend, appeared, what could he be blamed for?Nothing.Breakfast… breakfast. 

Wow. Let's wait.

And filled with a sudden well-being, Mister Sasuke seated in an indigo velvet chair.But no!, we must take better advantage of the moment they leave us alone.He got to his feet, peeked out onto the balcony, went back inside, leafed through several books stacked on a kind of desk (poetry books, some in a foreign language, all signed on the first page by a neat signature: Shisui Engelhard), he opened the closet (a thousand men's suits), he opened a small door hidden behind a big piece of cloth (the small door opened onto an immense bathroom like a Roman swimming pool) and he it closed immediately, as he had caught a man there relieving himself;He admired a stone fireplace (with its andirons loaded with wood, ready to be lit), a pendulum clock (ten fifteen, now), innumerable figurines of ivory, jade, of rare iridescent substances, and he was stroking the coverlet satin, when the boy reappeared.

Mister Sasuke instantly straightened his back and, as if caught in something embarrassing, blushed.(Silly. Like, for the young man, Sasuke was in his own house and in his own bedroom).But the spectacle that he immediately witnessed made him forget his blushes, the satin coverlet, the statuettes, the clock that said ten fifteen, the bathroom, the thousand men's suits, the books, Anglomery, the room, the house, the world, everything.Because the young man had entered with both hands holding a gigantic tray.And on this tray was raised, in silver and porcelain, the most excellent breakfast service that someone in their right mind can imagine.The young man placed that monument on a small table, pulled up a chair and then turned to Mister Sasuke, inviting him to come closer.

Mister Sasuke suddenly saw everything cloudy.His eyes clouded.A cannibal hunger was rousing rage deep in his guts.The stomach, the lungs, the heart, the head, all its entrails were sensitized. He staggered over to the table and sat down.

His hands were shaking.He had one last hesitation.He looked at the young man.But the young man, standing next to him, had the respectful air of a trusted servant assisting her employer.So Mister Sasuke did not wait any longer, hunger was stronger than good manners, than shame and dissimulation.

For a long time his consciousness disappeared.An astral Sasuke Uchiha manipulated spoons that were dipped in rosy jellies, in translucent marmalades, in scented milk tea, and then radiated up to his mouth;He maneuvered with loaded knives, like tiny cranes, of sweets and butter;he crushed toasts that filled his skull with noise, pieces of cake that melted on the tongue and spilled the most surprising, the most unexpected, the most exquisite flavors.From time to time he would raise his thoughtless eyes to the young man, the boy would smile at him, he would return his smile mechanically, and continued to devour.

Mister Sasuke joined his spirit again, leaned back in the chair, gave a masterful sigh that halfway transformed into a burp, looked shyly at the young man, murmured, as if apologizing:

“Delicious.Thanks a lot.”

And he felt a sudden sympathy for that young man.

He took the tray with the calm ways of someone who repeats an everyday act and took it away.Mister Sasuke stood up, took off his coat, loosened his belt, and went to settle in the velvet chair.Mister Sasuke was suddenly optimistic and did not know why.Waves of self-denial and kindness rolled up his body.He wanted to talk.To converse with the boy, with someone, with anyone.The world is beautiful.People are nice.We have to live.That's how profound the effects of a tremendous breakfast are.

When the boy returned, Mister Sasuke, swinging one leg and running his tongue over her teeth, asked him:

"My dear, are we really alone?”

The blond — almost doll looking — haired boy said yes with his head.

"And that breakfast, did you prepare it?"

Again the big head shook like a puppet's.

“Without anyone's help?”

A sly smile crept between the pulpy lips. "Don't you remember? Don't you remember, dear?” He sputtered.

"I don't remember what, my Love?”

"We fired the last two servants.” _Don't you remember, don't you remember?_

“Oh yeah.But downstairs, is there someone else?”

“Nobody.”

But Mister Sasuke tried to make sure.

"And then, say this afternoon, or tomorrow, or another day, who will come?" _Will you have visits?_

“Nobody.” He laughed.

Apparently, this unfortunate man had no family or friends, he lived alone in the vast mansion, he was alone in the world.Mister Sasuke was intimately pleased.

"My dear," he said in a suggestive tone, "would you like me to stay here, to live with you?"

He immediately regretted it.He had taken a wrong step.In response, the boy stood on his knees in front of Mister Sasuke, who still was sitting in that velvet chair, the boy took both of his hands, looked at him steadily, an expression of horrible anguish was painted on his face flaming, and at the same time the hatefulA smirk began to twinkle between his lips again, that sinisterly dual physiognomy terrified him.

"If you want," Mister Sasuke stammered, "if you want I'll stay... I'll stay as long as... “

And as the kneeling figure continued to scrutinize him catatonically, he shouted:

"Forever… forever… I'll stay forever!"

Then the young man broke into a kind of frantic contortion.The anguish faded from hia eyes, the perfidious little smile boiled up, moved to the corners of his lips, burst like a malarious bubbling.Mister Sasuke was embraced, squeezed, kissed. Two delicate but long hands stroked his hair.Mister Sasuke could not tolerate anyone touching his hair. On an irrepressible impulse she slapped the girl on the face and screamed:

"Leave me!"

Instantly the young man leaned back, dropped his hands, became very pale, very white, his pupils trembled, but the specter of their lost smile kept hitting him behind his lips.

Mister Sasuke was no less pale.What had he done?Why had he given in to this hysterical crisis?Was that how he repaid this poor person for his breakfast and his devotion?Was her little hair mania more important?Poor man, poor boy.And when he saw that the mark of the blow began to appear on his cheek, he felt on the verge of tears.Poor man, poor fool.

"Excuse me," he murmured, and held out a contrite hand that implored forgiveness.

The young man took Miss Sasukes large pale hand, brought it to his cheek, held it there as if it were a compress (his face burned. "Is he having a fever, is he ill?" Mister Sasuke thought). He sat on the ground at the feet of Mister Sasuke.Thus, motionless and silent, they both remained for a long time, while lazily chasing the bumblebee of brooding and dreaming.

At times, Mister Sasuke would peek at the large double bed.That bed enchanted him, magnetized him.How delightful it must be to lie there, not to sleep, but to spend hours and hours resting, reading, or drinking tea.Many times, at home, he had planned to stay in bed for several days. But at home there was nothing seductive about that idea.Looking at the stains on the walls, imagining that they are monstrous diseased organs, solving with the ceiling rosettes, thinking: "In ten minutes I will die, in five minutes, in a minute, now” Instead, here it was different.

He got up, approached the bed and stared at it as if he was observing a person lying on it.At once he felt two hands of fire come to rest on his shoulders and begin to undress him.A minute later he floated in the bosom of that vast bed like he was swimming in clean water, he rested her head on a feather pillow, warm covers sheltered him.And still, the boy, also laying next to him leaned down and kissed his forehead, to then move to rest his head under Mister Sasukes’s chin.

Mister Sasuke closed his eyes, tears of happiness welled up under his lids.A thousand frozen buds were loosening up in the depths of his spirit and opening like corollas.Old paralyzed mechanisms deoxidized, began to move again. My God, I was finally protected from loneliness, from poverty, from women who hug each other on public walks, from the hordes of boys and from Karui Akimichi.Please Lord, let no one come to tear him out of that paradise.Let him stay in it for at least a day, even a few hours.

And as he was claiming it for himself, he rested his arms in both the blonde boy and the bed.

That first day passed quickly, dispatched and as sabled by surprises, news, constant tension.Anyway, Mister Sasuke did not have a bad time.The boy made him a lunch that multiplied his breakfast tenfold;then he served him a glass of a very strong drink, which flayed his throat and made him laugh for a long time (the young man, although, did not taste the liquor, but joined him in laughter).

Then the young man sat in front of the desk with books (which turned out to be french poetry) and tore some jingles from the terrible pronunciation Mister Sasuke has;then all the sounds faded, night came, he wanted to look out on the balcony for a little while and see from up there what Anglomery Street was like at night; had dinner later;before sleeping the young man read aloud (and gestured) a forbidden love poem;then, dragged by that calm voice, Mister Sasuke fell asleep.

He did not understand how, if the window was always on his left, now he saw it on the right.And what the hell was that reddish reflection in the place of the dresser? He sat up, bathed in sweat.Several minutes must have passed before he realized that he was not at home, but at the house on 78 Anglomery Street. The adventure he was experiencing suddenly seemed like a crazy nightmare. He found the lamp and lit it.He was alone.One last coal burned in the fireplace.The clock said three.

Like a sleepwalker he got up and left the bedroom.Below, a light shone, far away.He caught a glimpse of the staircase, descended it, he could hear the amidst muffled creaks to reach the hall.He walked with his eyes fixed on that remote light.Under the soles of his feet he felt rugs, hardwood floors, mosaics.

The light approached, expanded, became the opening of an illuminated door.Behind the door there was the noise of crockery and the voice of a man babbling unintelligible words.Mister Sasuke stopped and waited.His heart was pounding.Then, stealthily, he took a few steps and positioned himself so that he could peer into the room where the talk was echoing.He saw that it was a large kitchen, and that the enigmatic mourning boy walked all around the kitchen, covered with an apron and with his hair now flat, almost falling over his eyes. 

What was he doing there at that time?Did he not sleep?And who was he talking to?What language did he speak?And that fickle, modulated, nuanced voice, like from an actor, was it yours?Mister Sasuke stood for a while watching him.She seemed very busy.He arranged stacks of dishes, opened and closed cupboard doors, washed pans, sat at a marble table and wrote, with a pencil whose tip he dipped on his tongue, in a rubber-bound notebook.

As he did not pause, as no one answered him, Mister Sasuke understood that the young man was speaking alone. Mister Sasuke shuddered.He wanted to go back the way he had come, but now there was no light to guide im.He walked in any direction, tripped over a wall, some furniture blocked his path, he didn't know where he was, he was lost, he screamed.

There was a quick run, two hands seized him, a voice whispered in his ear:

"Come on, my love, come on."

The young man guided him slowly through that dark labyrinth; He was holding his hand tightly.

Mister Sasuke let himself be led.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys also enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> Follow me on my socials:  
> twitter: mmmhnose  
> tumblr: revolutionxlarry
> 
> Love u! have a great day :)

**Author's Note:**

> Intense right? 
> 
> I hope you guys liked it. I think this has potential but i would love to hear opinions about it.
> 
> If u read the whole thing i already adore you <3
> 
> Find me in my socials!  
> twitter: mmmhnose  
> tumblr: revolutionxlarry
> 
> Have a great day :)


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